


I Can't Make You Love Me

by Biosahar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Heartbreak, Love Confession, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7735651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biosahar/pseuds/Biosahar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've always been brothers,</p><p>Until one of them begins wanting more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Make You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

> The title is that of Bonnie Raitt's I can't make you love me song, which I have been listening to writing this piece. I suggest you use it as background music while reading this.

“I love you, Dean.”

Those words were spoken from between thin parted lips, inducing a soft shade of red to kick into those bright dimpled cheeks. Sparkling eyes glistening with love and longing, speaking an entire story of desire a young brother could possibly hold for his older brother. He was beautiful, as beautiful as those words that just resonated through the one night motel room they dropped at after a werewolf hunt. They burst with revelation, a truthful confession that Dean have long wished to hear.

Sam said he loved him.

 _He loved him_.

It’s beautiful, but also sad and heart-breaking. As he knew better than anyone the answer to that statement, Dean knew better than anyone that as much as Sam has always been everything he’s ever wanted, he’s also everything he cannot have.

“I know.” His answer was. “Grab some shut-eye, we’re leaving early tomorrow.”

And just like that the confession has been ignored. Words that might have taken Sam days, months or even years of mustered courage to speak, words he might have repeated in the back of his mind day and night, and that he might have had his heart screaming each time their eyes met-

Those very words Dean wished to speak, those very words Dean ignored.

The room was dark, but Dean could see the glimpse of love and desire as it dies out from his brother’s eyes, fading away, replaced by sadness and sorrow. Sam’s body as if voided of life itself fell at the edge of the bed in silence. The stubbornness Dean has expected he was not met with, and Sam was quick to renounce, easily driven back to the quiet corner where he was merely satisfied contemplating his brother from. It only took him a minute or two and soon he was adjusting himself in bed underneath his blanket, pretending to sleep.

Dean pretended to sleep as well.

Morning came and whatever revelation was made the night before it wasn’t brought back to light, forever left in the ignorant darkness. Sam was striving to put his most casual front only to fail miserably. His eyes were red, dark circles cornering them. He looked tired, worn out as if life was drained out of him. Guilt crept into Dean’s heart at the sight of the state his brother was in. He tried to have him talk, but the conversations never lasted long.

Sam was quick at finding another case, although Dean knew it was the man’s way of avoiding confrontation.

It went on like this for days, days of having to watch Sam’s lifeless smile, days of wondering what it would’ve been like if instead of ‘ _I know’_ , Dean said ‘ _Me too’_.

Because he too loved Sam, and he too wanted him.

_But he shouldn’t._

His baby brother’s eyes started to wander, and his heart came in display. He became conscious of the girl at the diner who slipped her number with the bill, and he accepted the invitation from the witness at the bar who insisted they should share a drink. Since that day Sam’s eyes were no longer fixed on his brother alone, and that was when Dean opened his eyes to the unshakable truth.

Jealousy was a lesson to be learned.

Now Dean’s heart burned whenever Sam left the motel room between two hunts. It throbbed each time he’d show his most precious smile to a third party, or his eyes lingered a second longer on the figure of someone other than himself.

And one day, it happened before any of them could object. Blood still boiling in their veins after a heated supernatural hunt that winded up in their favour.

Lightning flashed through the cracked glass of the cabin’s windows, thunder followed, loudly roaring, its resonance shaking the four walls of the small house. No words have been spoken, none were needed.

Dean was seated at the edge of the bed, shirt lifted up, leaving room for his brother to work on stitching up his wound. Cold fingertips grazed against his warm skin once or twice. Dean found himself wincing more at the unintentional caresses than the actual needle that pierced his skin multiple times in a row.

The sound of rain pouring outside was covered by the soft sighs and breaths breaking the silence that settled between the two brothers. Sam fiddled with a couple of his hair locks, tucking them behind his ear as he pushed himself up from the floor.

“All patched up and ready to go.” He announced, turning his back to Dean. “You should grab some rest, I’ll go see if there’s anything edible around here.”

“Sam.”

The call echoed through the old cold cabin, and Sam knew it was an announcement ready to surface. He didn’t look back right away, merely stood there, eyes glancing through the rain stained windows as Dean’s words reached his ear.

“Sam. Hey.”

He still wasn’t willing to look back. The ambiance quickly grew heavy, a lump beginning to form in Sam’s throat. A part of him knew what this was about, yet another chose to purposely disregard it. He looked to escape, but it was too late.

Footsteps approached and Sam’s heartbeats quickened. Large fingers circled around his bicep, and as they pulled, his body followed in a slow motion.

Their eyes met.

Sam’s body was now facing Dean’s, shivering, fearful of another rejection as he was still pained and hardly recovering from his first, a hint of tears reflecting the dim light of the room as they glistened within his eyes. He was anxious, scared that whatever words Dean might speak would bring his tears to flow down his cheek in an instant.

“Hey…”

Dean’s voice broke, and his eyes flickered between Sam’s, searching to read through his brother’s familiar expression with difficulty. Eyebrows met up in his forehead, hint of anger settling down on his features. Sam was hurt, and Dean could no longer stand there and watch his brother break into pieces each time they hold each other’s gaze.

His fingertips loosened around his bicep, stroking their way down to Sam’s wrist before he wrapped his hand around it and gently pulled him into an embrace.

Sam’s body easily followed.

To think it would be an easy task to have him chest pressed against Dean’s, already breathless, mind still anxious, unsettled, yet decisive and certain. He didn’t hesitate to give in to the embrace, as if his entire being has been awaiting these moments, moments they shared such intimacy. These very moments that successfully bring Sam back to his childhood, back when holding his brother's hand and laying a kiss on his cheek had no second meaning.

Now he could only stand in the background, witnessing others lay them on him.

It was part of the long list of things that bothered Sam growing up: No longer being able to share the same bed as Dean, no longer holding his hand, no more of the physical contact. It all became certainly absurd for two young men who have hit the early ages of puberty, and so the notion of personal space began carving its sense into Sam’s head, leaving his heart aching in the process.

These moments, however, might have become rare, but they still existed, and Sam has learned to live with them, or rather _for_ them.

He was taller, his larger back leaning over as he felt himself grow smaller in between his brother’s arms. Dean smelled of alcohol and fresh air, Dean smelled of fast food and cleaned wounds, Dean smelled of home.

He couldn’t hold them back. The second the sound of rain colliding against the window glass ceased, tears came streaming down Sam’s cheeks, and like the helpless little child he felt at this moment, innocence and honesty came pouring out at once and with no second thought, Sam was whispering them again, those very words.

“I love you.”

Silence.

He was met with silence.

Then a motion followed, Sam is being slightly pushed away, adjusted back enough to catch a glimpse of.

Dean’s face was clear in the dark. Handsome features, rough on the edges yet soft when it comes to the way he would look at him as if he was the only person in the room.

That one glance has always been enough to revive the last piece of the dying hope within Sam. And Sam knew, he knew that glance wasn’t that of a lover, it wasn’t that of a man who is fond of another man, no, that glance was that of an old brother, a _worried_ old brother, a _caring_ older brother, a _good_ old brother.

Bitter, Sam felt bitter.

A step was taken back breaking the warm hold he has never wished to break, one hand came wiping the tears off his messy face and Sam smiled, whispered ‘I’ll be fine’ then stormed out of the cabin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been brushing the dust off my old fanfictions and winded up discovering this unfinished piece. I've edited it briefly, added a chapter's ending, and am thinking of deciding whether to put a continuation (or not) depending on the reactions this gets.
> 
> I'm hoping for you to share your opinion.


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